Equals
by sleepless86
Summary: Clarke is living a relatively normal life as a twenty-something grad student. But when her mother, Senator Griffin, is targeted by a domestic terror group, Clarke's life is upended. Enter Bellamy Blake, bodyguard. Rated M because there will absolutely be some adult sexy-times.
1. Prologue

A/N: I'm not completely sure where this is going yet, but I'm hoping you'll let me know in the reviews if this piques your interest. This is my second fanfic, so I'd love feedback!

It was a perfect late Spring evening. The paved path that wound around Grant Park was still dark with rain water from the afternoon's showers, and the light breeze that had blown away the clouds now shook the branches of tall Live Oak trees, sprinkling Clarke with welcome cold droplets. She jogged past the public tennis courts, then the entrance to the Atlanta Zoo. It was twilight, and the park was mostly deserted now. She passed the empty dog run and the abandoned playgrounds, but still she kept moving.

She kept a steady pace, enjoying the feeling of power in her legs as she ran up the wide steps that led to through a historic stone archway and up to the sidewalk of Cherokee Street, which formed the eastern border of the park. Turning north, Clarke made her way quickly through the village area, past a bike shop, a couple of bars, a pizza place. People were sitting outside, dining and drinking al fresco, dogs on leashes reclining at their owners' feet. Another lovely day in the neighborhood, her neighborhood. She crossed over a bridge that spanned I-20, turned left and made her way home.

By the time she made it to her quaint little duplex, Clarke was spent. She loved running, but she had to work at it. She was athletic enough, possessed "a strong constitution" as her mother would say, but long-distance running didn't come as effortlessly to her as it did to some. In fact, she hadn't really gotten into running until after college, when her best friend Raven had suggested it as a way to take Clarke's mind off of a particularly hurtful breakup. So that's how the habit had started: with Clarke wheezing alongside Raven through the same park she'd just come from. Eventually she had gotten strong, surprising herself with just how much she enjoyed the exercise. Two years later, Clarke still made the time for evening jogs. They had a way of clearing her mind and keeping her sane.

Clarke walked through the white picket fence that surrounded her small yard and thumped up the steps and onto the darkened porch, pulling out her earbuds and wrapping them around her phone. Setting her device aside, she grabbed the railing and pushed outwards, stretching her calves. The air was still humid from the earlier rains, and her thin hoodie clung to her uncomfortably, so she straightened and quickly unzipped it, throwing it on a nearby wicker chair. The cool air rushed around her sweaty arms and torso, and she fanned herself for a few seconds before bending at the waist and stretching her hamstrings. When she finally stood again, she took a moment to look out from her porch onto her small sleepy street. It was fully dark now, and there was little visible activity.

"Evening, neighbor."

Clarke jumped and gave a very undignified squeak. Spinning around, she could just make out Bellamy, the man who had recently rented out the other side of the big old house, reclining on the porch swing. He had his feet propped up on Clarke's small, decorative table and was giving her the most irritating smirk. He was also shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose fitting pajama pants. His left hand held a cold longneck beaded with condensation.

"Didn't see you there, Bellamy," Clarke said a bit stiffly. She reached for her hoodie and yanked it on. Something about Bellamy's smile was faintly appraising, and she didn't want to stand there in front of him in just her sports bra and shorts, no matter how humid it was.

He just nodded, his smirk turning into a grin. Clarke blushed, then cursed her fair skin. Well, let him attribute her redness to the exercise. Rolling her eyes, she turned to go inside.

"Hey, Clarke?" Bellamy spoke just as her hand reached her doorknob. She turned. "Yeah?"

The grin was gone, replaced by a serious expression. "It's a little late to be jogging through the park, you know. Especially if you're going to have your headphones on. It's not the safest place this time of night."

Was he...Jesus Christ, was he _scolding_ her? She'd barely spoken three words to him since he'd moved in! The _nerve_ of him.

Annoyed, Clarke nodded, mock seriously. "You're right, Bellamy. I wouldn't want to risk any strange men surprising me in the dark."

Bellamy's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then he recovered. His expression was serene but his tone was harshly dismissive when he replied, "Calm down, Princess. It was just some advice."

With colossal effort, Clarke ignored this last comment and turned to unlock her deadbolt and retreat inside. But just as she was stepping through the door, a thought occurred to her. Turning around abruptly, she asked, "How did you know I was in the park?"

This time, Clarke thought she could make out Bellamy's slight blush in the light from the streetlamp. He looked away towards the street. "Just a guess." he muttered. His response made Clarke feel vaguely triumphant as she closed her door behind her.


	2. Chapter 1

Well, that hadn't gone well. Bellamy watched Clarke step through her door and waited until he heard her shoot the deadbolt. He swung lazily back and forth on the porch swing, contemplating his new neighbor. She was a prickly one. But then again, Bellamy had met Clarke's mother, the venerable Senator Griffin, and he supposed the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. He shouldn't have mentioned the park; that had been a rookie mistake. But something about the way she held herself…so erect and self-assured, as though danger wasn't something she needed to bother worrying about. He couldn't stop himself from warning her. He knew too well that the world was a shitty, scary place, and that no amount of Princess-ey aloofness could protect her from someone who truly wished her harm.

He drained the last half of his beer in one long gulp and went inside.

He looked around his apartment and smiled to himself. He occupied half of the giant Logan Street house, and he had to admit it had character. It had been built sometime in the mid 1920's, and his side sported two gable-ceiling bedrooms upstairs and an open living room that fed into a kitchen with its original sink and pretty tilework downstairs. The walls were painted a pale dove white that made the rooms feel bright and clean no matter the weather outside. The windows were original as well, probably completely inefficient at keeping in any heat in the winter or cool air in the summer. The agency was footing the bill for the place, but Bellamy had to assume that the utility bills were as high as the rent was cheap. But truth be told, of all of the jobs Bellamy had been assigned in his career, he liked the living situation here best.

He made his way toward the kitchen, dodging the boxes that had been haphazardly unloaded onto the living room floor. Most of them were just for show, lined with weights and labeled with words like "Kitchen", "Books", and "Bedding" in black sharpie. His cover team back at the agency had done a thorough job of establishing him as a normal, single guy in his late 20's, new to the neighborhood. Upstairs in the second bedroom, they'd even unloaded and set up all the trappings of a home-office that would jibe with his fabricated job as a remote technical analyst. They'd fitted out the room with a filing cabinet, bookcase, desk, the works. All of it was standard stuff except for the laptop, which was as secure a piece of equipment money could buy. From it, he could monitor feeds from the wireless cameras that had been installed around the perimeter of the house last week by an agency prep team.

He grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter where he'd left it to charge. The home screen showed he had a message from Ash.

"Meeting tomorrow. 9AM." Bellamy typed out a quick reply.

"10-4."

He took his phone with him up to his bedroom and sprawled out on the bed. He lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. So tomorrow was the day. It was about time. He'd been here for two weeks, and Clarke Griffin still had no idea who he really was.

And her ignorance made his job a lot harder.


	3. Chapter 2

Clarke rested her head against the cool glass of the car window, watching her breath make small patches of fog every time she exhaled. The vehicle her mother had sent was expensive, imposing, official-looking...as apt a metaphor for the senator's life as any Clarke could dream up.

The call had come last night, just as Clarke was getting out of the shower.

"Clarke, sweetheart. I'll be in town tomorrow morning and I want you to come by the house. There's something we need to discuss."

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Clarke had asked, suddenly feeling very uneasy. It was the middle of the congressional session, so it wasn't like Abby Griffin to up and fly back to Georgia for a weekend.

"Everything is fine, darling. But there are some things we need to discuss. I'll send a car for you in the morning. 8:30, alright? We'll have breakfast together." Abby had sounded cheerful enough, but Clarke hadn't been able to shake

And now Clarke's car was pulling into the driveway of the enormous house where she had grown up. She stared at the ivy-covered brick and felt a pang in her stomach. The place reminded her so much of her father.

A member of her mother's security detail opened her car door. As the senate minority leader, Abigail Griffin traveled with a small protective unit provided by the Capitol Police. Clarke had gotten used to them years ago.

Odd, though. As Clarke entered the house she counted six suited officers. That seemed...more than usual. Unless she was campaigning, Abigail never took more than two of her detail with her when she left DC.

Clarke made her way to the large, bright kitchen. As long as she could remember, the kitchen had served as the social center of the house, a sort a homey command center.

Sure enough, Clarke found her mother standing at the giant granite topped island that dominated the room. Abby was wearing what Clarke thought of as "Congressional Casual" attire: dark jeans, an eggshell silk tunic, and an expensive looking fawn colored cardigan. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows as she whisked eggs in a bowl.

She looked up when Clarke entered, smiled broadly and dropped the whisk into the bowl. She enveloped her daughter in a tight hug. "Sweetheart! Oh, it's so good to see you! I've missed my girl." This, too, gave Clarke a pang. It had been a while since they had really spoken, and four months since they'd seen each other at Christmas.

"I've missed you too, Mom. Sorry I've been a little...MIA." Clarke pulled out a stool and sat across from her mother as she resumed making breakfast. Abby waived her hand dismissively. "Honey, it's fine! I know classes are keeping you busy. How are you sweetie? How's school?"

"Oh it's fine. I only have the one seminar today, and it's not until 4." Watching her mother's quick hands and sure movements made Clarke smile. Abby's physical efficiency had made her an excellent surgeon before she'd run for office. Within two minutes, the eggs had joined peppers, scallions, sausage and cheese in a casserole dish. Closing the oven door, Abby turned to Clarke again.

Looking more closely at her mother, Clarke noticed the tired eyes and lined forehead. Abby had always been well-preserved and classically beautiful, but in the bright morning light of the kitchen Clarke suddenly saw just how tired her mother looked. And this was a woman who ate stress for breakfast. Something was definitely wrong. The vague uneasiness that Clarke had been feeling since last night's unexpected phone call crystallized into fear.

Abby opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again and walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve two Diet Cokes. It was an odd quirk that Clarke and her mother shared: neither drank coffee, opting always for caffeinated sodas, even in the morning. Clarke accepted the offered drink. Finally, Abby sat down and sighed. She reached for Clarke's hand and clasped it firmly.

"Sweetheart...I'm not even sure where to start."

Clarke's stomach dropped down to to the floor. "What is it? What's going on?" Clarke's voice sounded panicked and childish to her own ears. "Are you...are you sick?"

_Please say no. Please say no. I can't lose you like we lost Dad._

"No, darling no! I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm fine, perfectly healthy."

Relief. Clarke struggled for composure.

"Clarke, you remember the Women's Wellness Act that we managed to get through congress last year?"

Of course Clarke remembered. It had been an enormously controversial piece of legislation, and her mother had been its architect. The WWA was the crowning achievement of Abby's career thus far, and it had made her something of a celebrity among many female voters. Of course, it had won her almost as many enemies on the right as it had supporters on the left.

"The WWA? Sure. What about it?"

Abby looked down at their joined hands and took a deep breath. "It seems that some of the bill's more vocal detractors have been making some...threats."

Clarke looked at her mother dumbly. Threats?

"I don't understand. Like political threats?"

"No, Clarke. This is something much more sinister than that." Abby sighed and stood. "Let's go into the study. There are some people I'd like you to meet. I believe they'll be able to explain all of this better than I can."

Clarke followed her mother through to the north wing of the house and into her parents' study. It was a huge office, one they had shared until Clarke's father's death a few years ago. It remained largely untouched. As she entered, Clarke noticed the security staff she'd passed on her way in. There were eight of them, altogether. Six of them wore suits like any other Capitol Police detail, but the other two were in plain clothes. Well, not exactly plain. They wore simple tactical-wear: khakis, vests, and sidearms in holsters. They wore matching black ballcaps. One was a handsome older man, probably about 50, with greying hair and a trim build. He was 6'2" or so, and had the look of a former serviceman. The other was much younger, probably closer to Clarke's age. He was thinner and rangier, with shaggy brown hair. As she got nearer, she noticed that both their vests had a small emblem on the right chest pocket. "ARK Solutions". They were from a private security firm, Clarke realized.

"Senator Griffin. Good morning." It was the grey haired man who stepped forward, extending his hand. "And you must be Clarke. Wonderful to finally meet you." Clarke shook the stranger's hand, nonplussed. She threw a questioning look at her mother.

"Clarke, this is Marcus Kane. He's with a private security company out of DC. He's here at my request."

Clarke nodded. "Ok, then." What in the hell was going on? Since when did her mother need private security?

"And this is Monty Green, my associate. He's our top technical analyst. He'll be working on Clarke's detail team."

Monty pumped both Abby and Clarke's hands enthusiastically. "It's an honor, senator. And it's great to meet you Clarke."

"I'm sorry, but...what detail team? What in the hell are you talking about?" Clarke asked. She looked over at her mother, whose expression was tense.

"Clarke, as I mentioned before, there have been some...threats. Mr. Kane, could you…?" She looked at Kane and nodded.

"Clarke," Kane began, his face inscrutable, "you are the unknowing victim of a number of violent threats that have been made against you in the past month. Your mother has hired us to provide you with close protection for the foreseeable future."

Clarke let out a disbelieving laugh. "Excuse me, due respect and all that, but that's absurd! Why would anyone threaten me?" Clarke looked around the room frantically for some sign that this was a joke, but her mother's regular detail remained expressionless. "Clarke, believe me. This is serious, sweetheart." Her mother's expression was pained.

Kane continued in his professional tone. "We believe the threats, all of which were received via your mother's private and secure congressional email account, are from an ultra conservative terror group called Army of Gabriel."

"And this...Army... they, what? Disagree with mom's politics? Don't like the WWA? Is that all?" Clarke's head was spinning. Domestic terror threats against her mother? This couldn't be happening.

"That would be putting it mildly," Kane suddenly looked past Clarke to the doorway of the study. "Ah, Blake, you're here. Excellent." Kane waived the person in. "Clarke, this is Bellamy Blake. I believe you've met already."

_Wait, what? _Clarke spun around and found herself staring directly into the smirking face of her handsome neighbor. She felt her mouth fall open in shock, and watched as his smirk changed into a broad grin. He seemed to be enjoying her surprise.

Kane was talking again. "Bellamy will be your personal bodyguard, Clarke. As you know, we've positioned him to be as close to you as possible at all times, short of living in your apartment. He's spent the last two weeks learning your personal habits and schedule. He'll be able to protect you with little intrusion into your life." Kane clearly had no concept of how creepy this all sounded. Clarke tore her eyes away from Bellamy's infuriating face and whirled around to face Abby.

"What in the HELL are you playing at, Mother? When exactly were you going to tell me I was living next door to someone whose job it was to _spy_ on my… what did he call them again?" she demanded, gesturing at Kane. "My _personal habits and schedule?_" Clarke heard Bellamy let out a snort behind her.

Abby's eyes narrowed slightly, but her tone remained calm. "Clarke, I wanted to tell you sooner, but this seemed like a face-to-face conversation. And we didn't want the Army of Gabriel people finding out that we'd hired close protection for you. They've already hacked my email, Clarke. We don't know for certain that my phone is secure.

"No, mother. No. I will not have a live-in bodyguard. I want no part of your DC drama."

Abby's face hardened. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, daughter. These threats are serious. They are real. There are people out there who would happily kill you in order to hurt me. I will not let that happen."

Clarke and Abby stared at each other furiously for a full minute. The silence was only broken when the oven timer went off in the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi again! Hope you guys are enjoying this thus far. I'm still new at this and feedback is so very welcome!**

Clarke and Senator Griffin argued for another half hour. In the end, Kane and Abby instructed Monty to show Clarke the threatening emails that had made it past the Congressional firewall. As Clarke read, Bellamy watched her face lose its angry flush. By the time she finished, she was ashen.

"Jesus _Christ_." Clarke murmured faintly. Monty gently took the iPad from Clarke's hands. Clarke was silent for a few moments. She walked over to a pair of large glass doors that led out to the well-manicured back lawn and stared out, arms crossed tightly in front of her. Finally, she spoke. "Fine, you win."

Senator Griffin crossed to her daughter and put her hands on her shoulders. "Clarke, this won't last forever. The FBI has an entire team working on this. We'll find these guys and we'll stop them. Ok?"

Bellamy had to admire the senator's fierce look of determination. He was further impressed as he watched Clarke return her mother's intent gaze. Clarke's eyes hardened and her mouth settled into a grim line. The two women seemed to be drawing strength from one another. Clarke nodded twice. Then she jerked her chin in Bellamy's direction. "How am I supposed to explain him? I have classes, and friends, and obligations, Mom. He can't follow me everywhere."

Now Kane spoke up. "He can, actually. He'll keep his distance when you're on campus, monitoring you without interaction. Everywhere else, Bellamy will need to be by your side. We've taken measures to make your Logan St. home secure, and there will be agents posted outside your residence at night, so he won't need to sleep in your home."

Clarke snorted and rolled her eyes. "Thanks for that."

Kane chose to ignore her sarcasm. "You're welcome. As for your friends, you can tell them whatever you like. He's already established himself as your neighbor. Tell them he's new in town and wants to meet new people. Tell them you two are dating. It makes no difference as long as they don't know the truth." Bellamy watched as Clarke's jaw tensed, but she said nothing. "I'm afraid you _will_ have to give up the volunteer tutoring you do on Wednesdays."

"How do you even know about-ugh, nevermind, I don't want to know." Clarke was beginning to look furious again. She turned to her mother again. "I'm sorry, this is all very...I need to go home and get ready for my seminar, ok?"

Bellamy should really stay behind and talk logistics with Kane and Monty, but instead he heard himself saying "Why don't I go ahead and take Clarke home now? I can brief her on our standard protocols later."

Abby nodded at Bellamy gratefully. "Yes, Clarke, maybe that's best. We've given you a lot to digest in a very short amount of time." The senator sighed and offered Clarke a weak smile. "Are you free after your lecture tonight? Join me at Hal's for dinner?"

"Sure. I assume _you're _free too, right Bellamy?" Clarke asked sarcastically. Bellamy smiled serenely. "Of course. Sounds great."

* * *

Clarke was silent during the ride home. Bellamy drove the car assigned to him by the agency, an unassuming Toyota SUV. Seeing the car in the driveway, Clarke had paused. "Do I sit in the front or the back?"

"I'm your bodyguard, Princess, not your chauffeur. Besides, it might look a little weird to be seen getting out of the back seat, don't you think?" Clarke had glared at him as she climbed into the passenger seat, remaining silent until they got home.

Clarke stomped up the porch stairs ahead of Bellamy, then hesitated before unlocking her door. She turned to him and said, grudgingly, "So my lecture is at 4 in Roland Hall. I usually leave at 2 so I can catch up on my readings."

"I know. I know your whole schedule. As far as classes go, you'll drive yourself to campus every day, like normal. I'll follow you at a discreet distance. Once you arrive, just go to class as usual. I'll be around."

Clarke frowned. "Will I see you?"

Bellamy grinned. "Not if I'm doing my job right." Clarke rolled her eyes at him and went inside.

Bellamy let himself into his own apartment and immediately heard his stomach rumble. He wished he had accepted that tupperware full of breakfast casserole from Clarke's mother. "_I'll bet Kane and Monty enjoyed it," _he thought, crossly. After stopping by the kitchen for some leftover pizza, Bellamy went upstairs to watch playback of the perimeter camera feeds. They'd only been gone a couple of hours, so there wasn't much to see. He sped up the recording, creating a sort of time lapse effect that allowed him to quickly confirm that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

He clicked over to the desktop and found the folder labeled "Griffin". Inside were dozens of subfolders, all of them dedicated to Clarke and, to a lesser extent, her mother. The dossier contained everything from personality profiles and medical histories to college transcripts. There was even a catalog of Clarke's graduate school classmates and their known social and political affiliations. Bellamy smiled, thinking that Clarke would be horrified to know just how much information about her private life Monty had been able to compile in the past two weeks.

He found the folder labeled "Frequently Visited Locations". This contained roughly fifty places-restaurants, bars, coffee shops, grocery stores, drug stores-that Clarke visited most often in the course of her daily life. The agency team would have used debit and credit card histories to put this list together. Bellamy squinted as his eyes skimmed the file names. The way Clarke's mother had suggested Hal's for dinner made Bellamy think it was a family favorite. Sure enough, Monty had found and provided photos of the interior, probably culled from the restaurant's website and yelp. He had also uploaded a rough blueprint of the entire building-God only knew where he'd found that. There was even a menu. Bellamy snorted. Monty was nothing if not thorough.

Bellamy spent the next hour familiarizing himself with the restaurant's layout. He might have guessed it would be a fancy place. Stuffy restaurants always made Bellamy uncomfortable-he never really felt as though he belonged in formal settings. The upside of a ritzy restaurant, however, was a predictable staff and clientele. This dinner was a low-risk outing and the women would have the added protection of Senator Griffin's security detail. Sighing, Bellamy flipped the laptop shut and went to his closet to make sure he had an acceptable suit for the evening.


	5. Chapter 4

Clarke stared down at her perfectly cooked steak and frowned. She had no appetite, and she considered that a real shame. Hal's served some of the best filets in the city. _How dare these Army of Gabriel fuckers screw with my love of red meat, _Clarke thought indignantly.

She was still looking down at her plate when her mother's hand moved into her line of vision and patted her own. "Clarke, sweetheart, I'm so very sorry about all of this. I promise baby, everything that can be done IS being done. It's just a matter of time until this whole ordeal is a distant memory."

Clarke looked up and attempted a wry smile. "You know what Dad would say, don't you?" Clarke lowered her voice to a poor imitation of her father's baritone and deadpanned, "Well of course my girls managed to piss off a whole army, they never do anything halfway." Abby laughed and shook her head. "Your father almost always managed to find the humor in things, it's true."

Before she could help it, Clarke's eyes stung with tears. It had been a long day full of insane revelations, and she knew she couldn't let herself dwell on how much she missed her father. Not tonight. Not when she was already so mentally and emotionally exhausted. Clarke cleared her throat and distracted herself by taking a long sip of her wine.

Her eyes wandered over to the bar. Bellamy occupied one of the seats, his body cheated outward while his eyes surveyed the room. His grey suit was cut on the slimmer side, as was the fashion, and his hair had been tamed for the evening. He hadn't bothered with a tie, and his open white shirt collar emphasized his tan. He held a clear drink with ice and lime. It was probably only seltzer, but the casual observer would assume it was a gin and tonic or something similar. Clarke was still watching him when his eyes swept back over to their table. He held her gaze for half a second too long while he raised his glass to his mouth and took a graceful sip. Clarke looked away, annoyed by the sudden hitch in her breathing and warmth in her cheeks.

"How was he today?" Abby asked, tilting her head towards the bar.

"Who?"

"Your bodyguard. Bellamy Blake."

Clarke sighed. "He was fine. He followed me to campus but I never saw him once after I parked. Then when I got home, he pulled in about 30 seconds after me. We changed clothes and he drove me here."

Abby eyed her daughter inscrutably while delicately chewing her food. "Hmmm," she said, finally, "he came highly recommended, you know. West Point grad. Former Army Ranger."

"I see," Clarke rolled her eyes. "So you like him, eh Mom?" Abby chuckled and continued eating. "Yes, I do like him. And he's going to keep you safe. Try not to make his job difficult, alright darling?"

After dinner, Clarke and Abby embraced in the parking lot. Abby would soon board her private plane back to DC.

"Clarke, remember what I said. This will all be over soon. In the meantime, please be safe, my girl." Abby's eyes filled with tears. "Be safe for _me_, Clarke." They hugged again and Clarke inhaled her mother's familiar scent. Clarke felt like a kindergartener on her first day of school; she didn't want her mom to leave her.

Breaking away from Clarke, Abby turned to Bellamy, who was standing inconspicuously by the Toyota. "I'm counting on you, Blake. She is the dearest thing in the world to me. Protect her."

Bellamy regarded Abby with a calm but solemn expression. "You have my word, Senator Griffin. I'll protect her with my life." His eyes briefly flitted to Clarke at this last sentence. Clarke shivered.

Finally, Abby and her security team departed in their three gleaming black SUVs, leaving Clarke and Bellamy looking after them. Clarke crossed her arms, clutching her elbows against a slightly chilly spring breeze. She had never felt so alone.

"Come on, Princess," Bellamy said softly, "let's get you home." Clarke looked at him, startled at the kindness in his voice. He shrugged, as if to say "Hey, I can be nice sometimes," and opened the car door for her. She got in, secretly grateful to have someone to drive her home.


	6. Chapter 5

Clarke woke early the next morning but she forced herself to stay in bed for another hour, hoping she'd get another few precious minutes of sleep. She'd had a restless night tossing and turning, and now she felt both exhausted and wired at the same time. Realizing it was a lost cause, Clarke kicked the bedcovers off her legs and rose, grabbing a Diet Coke from the kitchen and settling onto the couch in the living room to do some reading.

Clarke began by thumbing through the file on the Army of Gabriel that Kane had given her before she'd left her mother's house, which included a one-sheet profile on the organization that read like a sick laundry list of radical social causes and criminal affiliations. But Clarke was an academic at heart-research and accumulated knowledge would be her first line of defense against these sadists. Once she finished reading the Ark file, she grabbed her computer and started googling.

Three hours and a dozen legal pad pages worth of notes later, she shut the laptop and scrubbed her eyes. Reading about the Army of Gabriel was hardly pleasant and often terrifying, but the little research session had given her the first small sense of control that she'd felt since this surreal situation had begun.

Clarke flinched slightly when she heard a knock at her door. Looking through the peephole, she saw that it was Bellamy, wearing sunglasses and holding a white paper bag. Opening the door, Clarke was struck again by Bellamy's straight-forward good looks. He wore an understated black jacket over a simple white v-neck tshirt and jeans. His dark hair was damp from a recent shower. In the morning light, Clarke noticed for the first time a scattering of freckles across his nose-they made him look younger than..._how old is he anyway?_ Clarke felt slightly underdressed in her pajama shorts and tshirt. He gave her a small smile and held up the bag. "Breakfast?"

"Uh...yeah ok." Clarke was a little surprised. While Bellamy hadn't exactly been antagonistic towards her, their relationship thus far had felt a little...strained. She stood aside and he walked into the kitchen. As Bellamy began unloading containers filled with huge, lovely-smelling breakfast burritos and hash browns, Clarke eyed him suspiciously. "You're out and about early for a Saturday."

Bellamy smiled to himself as he continued rummaging through the take out bag. "I'm an early riser. Old military habits die hard, I guess. Besides," he glanced up at her briefly, then looked away again, "I heard you moving around pretty early yourself."

Clarke crossed her arms self-consciously. "I...hadn't realized you could hear anything through the walls." A horrible thought occurred to her. "You don't have any cameras in here, do you? Or microphones?" she asked sharply.

Bellamy looked up again and frowned slightly. "No. They're not necessary. The only cameras the agency installed are around the outside of the house. I heard you moving around because I'm your bodyguard and I'm trained to pay attention to that sort of thing. We share a house. I can hear water moving through the pipes when you shower or run a tap. I can hear you walking around on the hardwood, things like that. I'm sure you could hear me too if you were listening for it." The way he explained all of this, so matter-of-factly and without the slightest hint of embarrassment that he was tuned in to her every movement...it was very nearly clinical. _He's a professional. And you're a job to him. Don't let your guard down, Griffin. No matter how many goddamn breakfast burritos he brings you._

"I see." Clarke sighed. "Well yeah, I...had some trouble sleeping last night. I gave up and decided to read that file Kane gave me." Clarke busied herself with pulling out plates and forks and grabbing napkins. She handed them to Bellamy. "Coffee?" she asked. It seemed polite to offer.

"But you don't drink it," he said, surprised.

"Jesus _Christ_! You realize it's completely fucking unnerving that you know that, right?" Bellamy's eyebrows shot up at her tone. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time in a reasonable octave. "I mean, I keep some on hand for guests, since I seem to be the _only_ person who doesn't drink it."

"In that case," Bellamy said carefully, "yeah, coffee would be great. Black, one sugar." She stuck a k-cup into her machine and brewed it while he took the plates out to the living room. She made herself an Earl Grey. When she brought the mugs out a minute later, she found him looking through her handwritten notes on the Army of Gabriel, which she'd left sitting on the coffee table.

He was frowning again. "These are...thorough. We have more information on AOG if you want it. I'm sure Monty could send you a zipfile of more detailed stuff if the dossier Kane gave you isn't enough."

"No, the dossier is fine. Honestly, I just wanted to do my own research. It's one of the few things I know how to do really well, and it makes me feel less...helpless."

Bellamy looked up from the notes, regarding her thoughtfully. "You don't strike me as helpless, Clarke."

"Um, thanks." Clarke was annoyed to feel herself blush at Bellamy's almost-compliment. _For fuck's sake, get it together._

Before sitting down, Bellamy shrugged out of his jacket and threw it across the back of the couch. Clarke's stomach flipflopped when she saw the shoulder holster and firearm that the jacket had been concealing, but she said nothing. Instead, she focused on putting away what turned out to be the best breakfast burrito she'd ever eaten. They ate in not-uncomfortable silence.

When he was finished, Bellamy leaned back on the couch. "So listen, Princess, I need to brief you on some things. I haven't had a chance to give you the full security rundown, and there are a few rules you'll need to follow." Clarke quickly swallowed the last bite of her breakfast; it seemed to stick in her throat.

This was it: he was about to tell her all of the ways in which his job was going to fuck up her entire life. "Ah. So this lovely breakfast was just an excuse to get in here and lay down the law, huh?" She was aiming for a light tone, but her voice just sounded wooden. Bellamy smiled at her anyway. "Think of it as research, Princess. The more you know about my job, the better prepared you'll be, right?"

"Do me a favor. Cut the "Princess" bullshit. I'm not in the habit of letting near-strangers address me by infantilizing nicknames."

Bellamy's smile widened and he cocked a dark eyebrow. "Prickly, aren't we? You forget, _Clarke_, you're no stranger to me."

Clarke gulped, but she merely replied primly, "I'm becoming aware of that fact. Come on. Tell me your rules. Let's get this over with."

"Okay." Bellamy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Clarke remained cross-legged on the floor and regarded him warily. "First of all, yesterday was a very good practice run for how your school days will usually go. And it wasn't so bad, right? Did you see me at all?"

"No," Clarke admitted grudgingly. "Where were you, anyway? The campus Starbucks? Flirting with with the coeds in the student center?" _And why the hell did I just mention flirting? _Bellamy only grinned and shook his head. "I do this for a living, Clarke. And I'm pretty great at my job, actually." Clarke rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Bellamy turned serious, "But Clarke, if you ever _do_ see me on campus, you'll know it's for a good reason, ok? In fact, that brings us to the first and most important rule: do as I say at all times." Clarke opened her mouth to object, but Bellamy held up his hands. "I promise, I won't ask much of you, Clarke. I'm not going to make many demands. When we're out in public outside of school, your only job is to stay within ten feet of me at all times. That's actually rule number two. But if something happens, if there is a valid threat to your person, my word becomes law. I say run, you run. I say duck, you duck. I say stay behind me, you-"

"I stay behind you, yeah, I get it." Any fledgling warm and fuzzies she'd been feeling towards Bellamy for his breakfast delivery services were evaporating quickly. Clarke was the sort of woman who valued autonomy above all things, so the thought of Bellamy acting like her own personal helicopter, hovering constantly, chafed considerably.

"Ok, so I do what you say, and stay within ten feet of you outside of campus. Anything else?" Clarke asked stiffly. Bellamy was quiet for a few seconds. He didn't look away, but Clarke had the distinct impression that he wanted to. Slowly, he reached down to his pocket and pulled out an iPhone. _Her_ iPhone.

"What the-is that my phone?" Clarke was briefly confused as she looked around for the phone she'd gotten out of her purse this morning. Sure enough, her eyes found it right where she'd left it when she sat down to read. It was on the side table next to the couch. Clarke stood up and grabbed it. "Wait...this isn't mine? Or is it?" The phones were identical. Clarke was starting to feel stupid, her eyes flashing back and forth between the phone in Bellamy's hands and the one she was holding. Bellamy had the good grace to look somewhat guilty.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and exhaled. "Alright. Explain, please."

Bellamy shrugged. "The one you're holding is a copy. I palmed the real one from your purse at the restaurant last night and gave it to Monty. He downloaded everything and uploaded all your data to a lookalike, which I put back in your bag while I was driving you home. Monty dropped this, the original, off this morning. Now every transmission that comes through this phone is encrypted and secure."

"I...I don't...where in the _hell _was Monty that he could just make a 'lookalike'' of my phone?"

"In the alley behind the restaurant. In an agency van."

"When did you even...you never left the bar!"

"Oh, one of your mother's detail took care of that. I gave it to him, he gave it to Monty, Monty gave it back to me, and now I'm returning it to you," Bellamy explained calmly. Clarke was irrationally infuriated by this step by step explanation. She felt like an absolute fool.

"How very fucking clandestine of you." Clarke said icily. "And it never occurred to you to _ask_ me for my phone?"

Bellamy shrugged again. "Your mother seemed to think you wouldn't want to submit it to us."

So her mother had been involved. Clarke filed that knowledge away; the Senator could look forward to one of Clarke's newly "secure" phone calls herself.

Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose, remembering how she had promised her mother not to make Bellamy's job any harder. She supposed that meant she wasn't supposed to strangle him right now, fantastic though the idea might sound.

But...if she was honest with herself, she wasn't really that mad that Bellamy had jacked her phone for a few hours. She was mostly furious, and not a little scared, at what his little switcheroo implied about her general ineptitude. A cult of redneck psychopaths was out to do her serious harm, and she couldn't even keep an eye on her fucking _phone? _She felt stupid and, actually, kind of nauseous.

"Next time, Blake, just ask. Alright?"

"Alright, Princess." Clarke's head snapped up and she threw him a ferocious glare. She was gratified to see Bellamy flinch, just a little.

"Sorry, sorry. _Clarke_." They regarded each other silently for a few moments. Finally, he asked, "How about a run?"


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Hi guys, me again. So I've mentioned before that I'm brand new at this. The awesome reviews I've gotten so far have been super encouraging and helpful! I would love to get some more!

Bellamy and Clarke jogged side by side through the park, their strides in surprisingly good sync for two people who'd never run together before. Bellamy stole a quick glance at Clarke, who seemed lost in the music blaring through her earbuds, and then retrained his eyes on the path ahead. He scanned the surrounding green slopes-he was always scanning-but saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was a muggy morning with a fair amount of cloud cover, so the park wasn't actually that crowded.

Bellamy listened to Clarke's steady breathing beside him, wondering what she was thinking about, or whether she was thinking at all. After two weeks of tailing her on her daily park outings, he'd begun to suspect that running was as much a form of emotional release as it was exercise for Clarke. Seeing her face when he pulled out her iPhone...well, it had seemed like a good time for Clarke to let off a little steam.

The phone snatching business had been Senator Griffin's idea-well, sort of. She'd cornered him at the ARK offices in DC during their initial meeting. "My daughter is an incredibly competent and self-assured young woman, Mr. Blake. Those are two qualities my husband and I valued very much and we worked hard to instill them in her from a young age. She's also quite adaptable-socially, culturally, intellectually...I've yet to see an occasion that she hasn't been able to rise to. And you've seen her resume, you know how she spends her summers." The senator had smiled ruefully and shook her head. "I'm not telling you this because I'm a proud mother, though obviously I am. Those wonderful qualities? They also make her arrogant as hell. I know my daughter. She won't believe in the severity of these threats. That's my responsibility-to convince her that she's in actual danger. Your job, Mr. Blake, aside from protecting her, will be to show her your value. She'll respect your role in all this if she understands that you have skills she doesn't possess, and that those skills are useful."

"I'm sorry, ma'am...show her my value? What sort of display are you hoping for? Marksmanship? Ordnance disposal? A HALO drop?"

Abigail chuckled, "Nothing so extreme as all that, Mr. Blake. She just needs to see that she's not invincible. You'll think of something." So Bellamy had settled on a simple pickpocket play. Stealing the phone had been easy enough. And he'd kept it overnight, even though that hadn't really been necessary. Monty had been able to secure Clarke's real phone in a couple of hours. It had been finished in the agency van before Clarke even left the restaurant.

It had all seemed relatively harmless at the time-a small violation of Clarke's personal boundaries that would rattle her just enough to put her on guard. But watching Clarke's reaction earlier, as she realized how easily she'd been duped, had made Bellamy feel like a complete asshole. He recognized now that the Senator's request had been high-handed, and he was annoyed with himself for letting her influence the way he did his job. He thought about the pages of notes Clarke taken on the Army of Gabriel that morning and felt another wave of guilt. She was taking the situation more seriously than her mother realized. In fact, she was probably downright terrified. Stealing her phone just to show that someone could...had Clarke really needed another example of her vulnerability?

...he also felt pretty bad about thumbing through Clarke's text messages last night before bed. That wasn't really part of his job description either.

Bellamy's eyes flicked to his left again, catching a swish of Clarke's blonde ponytail. She really was a stunner. He'd known that before, of course. His prep work had included photos, and hell, he could Facebook-stalk as well as anyone else his age, but pictures didn't really do Clarke justice. She was beautiful and blonde and intelligent, yes. But there was something more-a quiet intensity behind her eyes that Bellamy found...regal. And despite her current predicament, Bellamy had found Clarke to be remarkably self-possessed. _Adaptable_, her mother had said. Bellamy could see that.

As they crested a not-insubstantial incline in their third mile, Clarke slowed to a stop. Bellamy's momentum carried him a couple of strides past her, but he turned to look back at her while jogging in place, She jerked her earbuds out with a deft tug and stood with her hands on her hips, flushed, breathing hard.

"Stopping isn't actually a great idea." Bellamy's eyes continued to scan the park calmly. "If you're ready to call it quits we should head back to the house."

"Sure." Clarke said between breaths, "Running with you is really bad for my self-esteem anyway. I thought I was in better shape. I'm no match for you."

_You're the perfect match for me. _

_Wait, what? Where the hell did THAT come from?_

Bellamy's face remained neutral, but he was shocked at the errant thought. It had bubbled up from nowhere, an instantaneous mental response. He forced an easy smile.

"I've just got longer legs. And also, you know, it took _years_ of specialized military tactical training to make me the accomplished jogger I am today. You haven't had that advantage." Clarke snorted and started walking toward a park exit. "Let's go. I could use a shower." she called over her shoulder. Bellamy fell in step beside her.

They walked toward home in silence for a while. Then Clark asked quietly, "How many years?"

"What?"

"Military training. You said you'd had years of it. How many?"

"Ah. Well, four years at West Point. I graduated as an Infantry specialist, and they sent me to Fort Benning, here in Georgia, for officer training. From there I went straight into Ranger School, also at Fort Benning." Bellamy shuddered. "Managed to make it through Ranger School without any...lasting damage. Then I served for five years. I've been doing private security for the last two."

Clarke digested this for a moment. "Why'd you leave the Army, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I got tired of all the jogging."

Clarke threw her head back and laughed. It was a sudden, carefree sound and it had an immediate and profound effect on Bellamy's body. It entered through his ears and traveled down into his chest cavity, bouncing around for a moment before settling warmly in his belly. He really wanted to hear that laugh again. _Shit. _

He needed to change the subject. Clarke was getting under his skin, and sharing his personal life with her wasn't going to help him keep his professional distance.

"So what's on your schedule for the rest of the day, Clarke?" Bellamy knew from reading Clarke's texts that her friend Amanda was having a birthday party tonight. He was curious to see whether she'd try to skip it, or if she'd still go knowing that she'd have to take Bellamy along. He suspected she was leaning toward the former when he saw her grimace slightly.

"I, ah, I'm not sure. One of my grad school friends has been planning this birthday party for a few weeks now. She and I were overseas together last summer so...we're close. I, uh, kind of feel like I have to go." Clarke looked up at Bellamy, who nodded.

"Party it is, then."

"It's not that simple, Blake." Clarke's tone was sharp, but it looked as though she was fighting off a blush. "I don't really know how to explain you to them."

"Just take Kane's advice and tell them I'm your neighbor, that I'm new in town, and that you're being a good Samaritan and inviting me out on a Saturday night when I have nothing else to do."

"Fine. But can we renegotiate the '10 feet at all times' rule?"

"No dice."

Clarke sighed. "You'd better have an excuse for why you're hovering around me then. My friends won't be shy about asking."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm really really enjoying writing this, and I'm really really enjoying all your kind feedback! Keep it coming, please!**

Clarke was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard Bellamy knock on her front door. She felt oddly nervous as she let him in...it felt too much like getting picked up by a date or something. She just hoped Bellamy couldn't sense her discomfort.

Bellamy looked handsome. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, but he wore them so well that Clarke had to restrain herself from staring at his chest, which, since she'd yet to put on her heels, loomed broad and toned right at eye level.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, just a second."

Clarke went back to her room to get her purse and shoes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over her dresser and was dismayed to see that she looked flushed.

_You're not supposed to be excited, stupid. This isn't a date, it's a sick show for your closest friends. No one can know who Bellamy really is, so get ready to sell it._

Clarke joined Bellamy in the living room. "You look nice," he said, with a small smile. He didn't seem nervous at all. _He does this sort of thing all the time. _Clarke adopted her most business-like tone.

"Thanks. So listen, it's a house party, nothing fancy, but Amanda loves having lots of people over. Oh, and speaking of Amanda…" Clarke walked to the kitchen and returned with a grocery bag containing three wine bottles. Seeing Bellamy's amused look, Clark shrugged. "She loves rose."

"Anything else I should know about your friends?"

"They're polite, they're fun, and they enjoy a good party. But above all, they're smart. Some of the smartest people I know. Once the booze starts flowing, they'll probably ask you a million questions about yourself. Amanda and her boyfriend Will live together, just a couple of blocks from here, actually. Then there'll be Raven, Finn, Harper, Miller, Jessica, and...well a bunch of other people, probably. A lot of them are couples, but not all of them. It'll be a pretty standard party."

Bellamy nodded and leaned down to take the bag of wine from Clarke's hand. She caught the faintest whiff of something...aftershave or cologne. _What is it about men who smell nice?_

"I've got some general knowledge on most of those people. I'm not worried. And Clarke?" Bellamy had his intense, bodyguard face on. "I don't want you to be nervous. This is a low-risk outing. Just treat me like you would any other new friend, ok?"

"Sure. A new friend who happens to be on my mother's payroll and carry a gun-wait, are you armed right now?"

"Yes." Bellamy opened the door and waited for her to walk through. Clarke just stared.

"Where is it?"

Bellamy sighed. "Where's what?"

"Don't be a smartass. Where's the gun?"

"Ankle holster."

"You're very matter of fact. It's annoying."

"Come on, Clarke. We'll be late."

Clarke stalked through the doorway and into the warm evening air.

By the time they arrived at Amanda's house, the party was in full swing. Clarke had met Amanda during orientation for their grad school program and they'd hit it off immediately. Clarke had introduced Amanda to her friends, and Amanda had done the same. Now, it was impossible to explain who knew who from where. They were just one big happy urban family, and parties like tonight's were a common occurrance.

They walked up the porch steps and Clarke opened the door without knocking. No one on the inside would have been able to hear it over the music anyway. The house was full of people talking, laughing, holding drinks and wandering between the kitchen and the living room. A record player was blasting something vintage. A dozen people noticed Clarke as she entered and called out a chorus of hellos. Each greeting was followed by a pause as her friends laid eyes on Bellamy. Thankfully, Amanda sashayed through the kitchen door, a pitcher of something wicked-looking in one hand.

"_There_ you are!" she called, beaming. Clarke couldn't help herself from beaming back. Amanda made her way over and gave Clarke a tipsy hug. "I maaaaaay have started drinking my own punch while I was getting ready, ergo I maaaaaaay be two drinks ahead of everyone else. So here. Get started." She handed Clarke the pitcher and then spun around, looking for plastic cups, which she eventually located on a nearby bar cart.

Clarke smiled and shook her head as she poured herself and Bellamy a drink. Amanda stuck her hand out toward Bellamy. "Hello. Clarke told me she was bringing someone, but she didn't mention he'd be tall, dark, and adorable." Bellamy laughed easily and took her hand. "I'm Bellamy, Clarke's new neighbor and charity case. She brought me along tonight because she heard I was new in town. Happy birthday, and thanks for letting me join."

Amanda waived her hand dismissively. "Oh please, we're very much a "more the merrier" crowd around here. We love making new friends." Bellamy handed Amanda the bag of wine. "And we _definitely _love making new friends who come bearing wine." Amanda leaned towards Clarke and said in a stage whisper, "He is VERY attractive. Let's keep him."

Clarke couldn't help but giggle. She handed Bellamy his drink while Amanda wandered off to deal with something on the porch. "Oh, shit, I forgot. Are you allowed to drink that?" Clarke asked quietly.

"Generally, no. But one won't hurt me. I have a high tolerance, and since I'm trained to blend in..." Bellamy grinned at Clarke and she felt her mood lift. It was a party, after all. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Clarke made the rounds, saying hello to everyone and introducing Bellamy. She was impressed-his manner was easy and he made great small talk. She would never have suspected he was anything but her witty, good-looking neighbor. Eventually, Clarke was able to loosen up and actually enjoy herself.

After an hour or so, Clarke found herself alone in the kitchen with Bellamy. She was slicing fruit for another batch of sangria while Bellamy nursed a Bud Light and looked with interest at all the pictures on Amanda's refrigerator. Finn came in, searching for more beer. Seeing Clarke standing at the counter, he pulled up a stool and sat down.

"And how're you doing tonight, Princess?" Finn asked. He was slightly drunk, like everyone else at the party. Clarke's eyes flicked to Bellamy, who was still facing the refrigerator door. She thought she saw him stiffen slightly.

Clarke forced a smile but kept careful focus on the apple she was dicing. "I'm doing pretty great, and yourself?"

"I'm good too. Been awhile since I've seen you." Finn glanced at Bellamy and frowned.

Clarke nodded. "I know. Things have been crazy with school and all my TA stuff."

"Let's get dinner this week. That Ethiopian place we like? With that crazy waiter?"

Clarke kept her tone light. "Sure! I'll see if Amanda and William and Raven want to join."

"Actually, I was thinking just us, so we could catch up."

"Mmmmm, yeah maybe." _Shit. _Clarke squirmed, feeling cornered. Dinner with Finn was the last thing she wanted to do. And incidentally, it was impossible, since Bellamy wouldn't allow her to go alone. Luckily, Amanda was gifted with impeccable timing and chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. She paused to survey the scene through slightly squinted eyes. The she cleared her throat and said sweetly, "Finn, I think Will is bringing in more beer from the garage. Would you be a doll and help him?"

"Oh, uh, yeah sure." Finn left, tossing an appraising glance towards Bellamy, who watched him go with a neutral expression.

Clarke wiped her hands on a dishtowel and glanced at Amanda. "Hey girl, these apples are done. I'm, uh, just gonna run to the bathroom." She made a speedy exit, desperate for a couple of minutes to clear her head. Bellamy did not follow.

* * *

Bellamy watched Clarke scurry out of the kitchen. He'd listened to her exchange with Finn first out of professional necessity, and then with growing curiosity. Clarke had been uncharacteristically tense and Finn had called her _princess_. Clearly, he was missing some subtext. _Might explain those unanswered texts from Finn, though._

"Finn's in love with Clarke, Raven's in love with Finn, Clarke won't say how she feels because she values Raven's friendship too much to ever do anything that might hurt her."

Bellamy spun around to face Amanda, who was leaning against the sink, smirking like some sort of self-satisfied Greek chorus. "Oh come on, like you weren't curious. You could cut the tension between them with a knife when I walked in." Amanda tilted her head to the side and regarded Bellamy shrewdly. "And you don't seem like the type to have missed that."

Bellamy stood blinking, momentarily at a loss for words. Clarke _had_ said her friends were smart.

He recovered himself, shrugging. "Any big group of friends is bound to have a few melodramas, right?"

Amanda let out a short laugh. "I guess you're right. And Finn's a nice enough guy. But the fact is he's sleeping with Raven and carrying a torch for Clarke. And it's not going to end well for anyone." Amanda gave Bellamy another appraising look. "So what's your story, Bellamy? Clarke says you're some sort of analyst?"

_Focus, Blake, it's time to win that Oscar_. "That's right. Technical stuff. Companies pay me to keep their data safe from hackers." This was Bellamy's standard cover story. Trade "data" for "people" and "hackers" for "bad guys" and it was basically the truth. And staying as close as possible to the truth was ideal. The less actual lying he did, the better.

"Do you like it?"

"Sure, I like it. No two clients are alike, so I'm never bored." _Certainly not bored with Clarke._

"And how long did you serve?"

Bellamy choked on the beer he'd been swigging. He had to hand it to Amanda, she knew how to keep a guy off balance. He didn't usually divulge his service history as part of his backstory, but it seemed dangerous to lie about it to someone so perceptive.

Bellamy cleared his throat and smiled. Sitting down on the stool Finn had just left, he asked "Is it that obvious?"

"Probably not to most people. But I was an army brat. I can spot a serviceman from a mile away."

Bellamy nodded and picked at the label of the beer in his hand. "Ranger. Served for five years."

Amanda nodded, looking impressed. "Afghanistan?"

"Mostly. Some other places, too."

Amanda was silent for a few moments. Then she seemed to remember that she was the hostess of an increasingly rowdy party happening just a few feet away in the living room. She shooed Bellamy out of the kitchen as she set to work finishing the sangria.

Bellamy found Clarke on the back porch. She was alone, sitting with her knees drawn up in an old rocking chair, a fresh drink in her hand. She looked up when he opened the back door, squinting into the bright light that poured out.

"I know, I know. I broke the "ten feet at all times" rule." She took a large sip of her drink and winced as it went down. She still looked tense.

"I'll let you off the hook this time." Bellamy settled himself into another rocking chair next to Clarke's. "So. This Finn character. Is he gonna be a problem?"

"Nope." Clarke said flatly, staring out at the dark back yard.

"Really? Cause he seems like the type to ask qu-"

"If I say he won't be a problem, then he won't, understood?" Clarke snapped. She was looking at Bellamy defiantly now, that defensive haughtiness making her eyes cold and disdainful. Inaccessible. Bellamy's temper flared. _Oh, HELL no. _

Bellamy's eyes narrowed. "Well since I don't answer to you, _Princess_, I guess I'll have to judge that for myself."

Clarke's eyes darkened with anger, but her icy demeanor remained otherwise unchanged. She snapped her head back towards the yard and said without looking at him, "By all means, Blake, make your own assessment. That's your _job_, after all."

And just like that, her shutters were drawn again. Bellamy stared at Clarke furiously, fighting the urge to shake her, to yank her down from the rich-girl high horse she'd just climbed back up on. To make her look him in the eye.

Clarke stood, still staring away. "I'd say it's time you took me home, _bodyguard_."


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Guys, I apologize for the long delay between chapters. This one is short, but I promise I'll have another along soon! Keep the feedback coming!**

"Clarke!"

Clarke jumped, coming to a halt in the middle of the campus quad. She spun around and spotted Amanda jogging across the grass, weaving through groups of baby-faced undergraduates and waving.

"Dude, didn't you hear me? I've been chasing you down since you left the library."

"Oh, sorry. I was kinda in my own world I guess."

Amanda was eyeing her suspiciously. "Yeah, you seemed a little...distracted...in the lecture today."

Clarke looked away. "Well, you know, it's Monday."

"Sure."

Amanda fell into step next to Clarke as they headed across campus to the graduate school parking deck. They walked along in companionable silence for a while before Amanda spoke.

"So you left kind of suddenly on Saturday night. Is it too much to hope that you took that gorgeous neighbor of yours home and banged his brains out?"

The thought of being naked and tangled up in the sheets of her bed with Bellamy Blake caused a sudden eruption of butterflies in Clarke's stomach. She felt her cheeks warm slightly and hoped Amanda didn't notice. "Yes. That's _definitely_ too much to hope for."

"Shame. He seems into you. I don't think his eyes left you once at the party."

Clarke almost laughed out loud, wanting very badly to explain to her friend that Bellamy was being _paid_ to watch her, to pay attention to her every move. She knew he was somewhere nearby at that very moment, and the thought made her spine tingle uncomfortably. She shifted her bag further up on her shoulder.

"Even if that were true, it probably isn't a good idea to sleep with a neighbor."

"Ugh, that's true. That could get awkward. Still, if I were in your shoes, I don't know if I'd be able to stop myself from inviting him over to split a bottle of wine or two, see where the night took us."

Clarke grinned despite herself and laughed when Amanda wiggled her eyes lasciviously.

They parted ways when they reached their cars, but not before Amanda wrangled a promise from Clarke to get drinks together soon. She'd have to cancel, of course. Or Bellamy would have to shadow her to happy hour.

_He's not likely to enjoy THAT_.

Clarke and Bellamy hadn't spoken since the tense exchange on Amanda's back porch. She'd stayed in her house for most of Sunday, telling herself that she needed to stay in and catch up on her class readings when really she'd just been hiding.

The image of Bellamy's smug face appeared in her head. He'd just seemed so annoyingly..._knowing_...when he'd come outside and asked her about Finn. And his _knowing_ face had really pissed her off, because how could a guy who'd only _known_ her for a few days actually _know_ her at all?

_Though extensive research and observation, you idiot._

With Bellamy, her entire being had been laid bare against her will. She had no secrets from him, no mystery of her own. He knew every detail of her life, past and present. So when he'd given her that _look. _That look that made her feel like he knew not only her life story but also every goddamn thought she was having...well, it had been infuriating. And truth be told, she'd briefly enjoyed his look of shock when she'd snapped at him. In that moment, she'd felt a tiny fraction of control shift back in her favor.

Now, of course, Clarke recognized her outburst for what it was: a bratty tantrum that had done nothing but make her living situation even more uncomfortable. She had shattered the shaky truce that had formed between them. There was no way around it. Clarke was going to have to apologize.

So instead of unlocking her apartment door, she lingered on the front porch, perching on the porch swing and waiting for Bellamy. He was never more than thirty seconds behind her.

Sure enough, in less than a minute Bellamy had turned onto the street and parked behind her own car. He eyed her warily as he stepped onto the porch, but he stayed silent. He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. It was clear he was going to wait her out and force her to speak first.

Well, fine. She would apologize, but she wasn't going to grovel. She wiped her face clean of any expression, folded her hands in her lap, and willed herself not to blush.

"I think we should clear the air. I apologize for snapping at your the other night. It was unfair and rude."

Clarke held her head high as she said it, her back straight, eyes holding his gaze resolutely. _No. Groveling._

Bellamy regarded her through slightly squinted eyes. The seconds ticked by, but he remained silent. For a long moment, Clarke thought he wasn't going to say anything at all. Finally, he looked down at his watch and sighed. "You know what I think, Clarke? I think we could both use a beer."


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for your patience, you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Bellamy took a long gulp of whatever craft beer he'd just ordered while his eyes automatically scanned the room again. The little taqueria near Clarke's house was relatively quiet, not surprising for a Monday. Still, Bellamy had chosen a high-top table against a wall and he sat facing the door, giving him a near 360 degree vantage point from which to monitor any of the current clientele.

His eyes returned to Clarke. She sat directly across from him, watching the early evening traffic through the large front window of the restaurant. Her body was relaxed, legs crossed, her expression one of perfect composure, but Bellamy wasn't fooled. Her hands, which were methodically tearing her cardboard coaster into tiny squares, betrayed her discomfort. She stopped long enough to take her own deep gulp of beer and shiver slightly, which Bellamy found endearing despite his better judgement. He cleared his throat.

"Look, let's just forget about Saturday, ok?"

Clarke exhaled slightly and looked..._relieved_? "Ok." She began shredding the coaster again.

Bellamy softened and fought an urge to reach across the table and quiet her hands. He settled for reassuring her further. "Seriously, don't worry about it. I've been a bodyguard for a while now, and believe me when I tell you, I've guarded far more uncooperative bodies than yours, alright?"

Clarke's eyes widened at his choice of words and a small smile played at her lips. "Oh is that so? Meaning my body is _more_ cooperative than some?"

Bellamy blushed slightly and rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

"No, honestly Bellamy, I'm happy to hear I'm not your _least_ cooperative body." Clarke was grinning now, her tone playful.

"Oh shut it." Bellamy grumbled, but he couldn't help grinning into his beer. He also couldn't help the sudden thought of Clarke's body in some _very_ cooperative positions...

"Do you have any sisters?"

Bellamy sputtered into his glass, beer heading straight down his windpipe. _What the hell?_ He coughed a few times and Clarke serenely handed him a cocktail napkin. When he'd recovered, he eyed Clarke suspiciously.

"Why do you ask?"

"You do, don't you? I'm right."

Bellamy pursed his lips and stared at Clarke. "I have a younger sister, yes. Her name is Octavia."

Clarke nodded thoughtfully. "I'll bet I'd like her. A lot."

Bellamy nodded. "You would," he allowed. _And she'd like you even more._

Clarke looked down at the remains of her coaster and smiled. A ray of lingering sunlight was cutting across their table, making Clarke's hair glow as it fell around her face. When she looked back up again, the blue of her eyes suddenly looked so vivid that Bellamy forgot to breathe, just for a moment. _Get it together. _

"So, it's Monday. What excuse did you give Raven for skipping your weekly movie night?"

Clarke huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms. "Dammit. Is there _anything _about me you don't know?"

Bellamy smiled, but didn't respond.

"I told her I had too many papers to grade for that undergrad class I TA for. I figured you wouldn't let me go to a crowded theatre unless you were right beside me."

"You figured right, Princess."

Bellamy signaled for the check and paid a bored looking server for their beers. Clarke opened her mouth to protest but Bellamy shook his head. "Let's let the agency pick up the tab, ok?" he said as he stood. "Do you really have papers to grade?"

"No, actually. I finished them all yesterday."

"Well then, come on, Clarke. It's movie night, after all. I'm sure we can find something on Netflix that we'd both enjoy."

* * *

Clarke opened the door to her side of the house and began flipping on lights, Bellamy close behind. She felt that little flutter of nerves in her stomach again; having Bellamy in her home felt oddly intimate and it threw her off balance.

Bellamy didn't seem to notice. He shrugged out of his jacket and and holster, draping both across a chair in the corner of the living room. Then he walked over to the couch and flopped down, reaching for the remote and propping his feet up on the coffee table. "I have a feeling choosing this movie is going to take some serious negotiation. But don't worry, I have excellent taste in cinema, if I do say so myself."

Clarke blinked at the scene before her. Bellamy was punching up a throw pillow, his sprawling frame taking up half her couch. He kicked off his shoes and looked at her expectantly. "Action? Drama? Please don't tell me I have to sit through another one of those period dramas like last week."

Clarke blushed. "You tailed me all the way _into_ the theatre?"

"Of course I did. Two weeks in a row."

"Right. Sure. Of course." Clarke continued to stand in the middle of the living room, contemplating the utter ridiculousness of her situation. Movie night. With her bodyguard. Her very large, very attractive bodyguard. Who was a virtual stranger. Clarke sighed. "Alright. No period dramas."

Twenty minutes later, Clarke had changed into yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt and thrown her hair into a top knot. She'd also made a giant bowl of buttered popcorn and fetched a beer from the fridge (Bellamy declined to continue drinking. "I'm still on the clock. Gotta stay sharp.") Finally, she settled down on the couch next to Bellamy, draping a big old fluffy blanket across her legs and willing herself not to fidget. This was proving difficult, especially when Bellamy looked over at her with a grin on his face, his hair falling boyishly across his forehead. Clarke's heart fluttered slightly. _You will NOT crush on your bodyguard, you will NOT crush on your bodyguard, you will NOT crush on-_

"Would you believe I found a movie I think we'll both enjoy?"

"I'm breathless with anticipation," Clarke replied dryly. "What could it be?"

"_Shawn of the Dead. _It's funny _and _gory!"

"Perfect. Pass the popcorn."

After the first half hour, Clarke felt herself relaxing. She wasn't sure if this was due to the beer she was drinking or the surprisingly soothing sound of Bellamy's occasional chuckles, but she was enjoying both things all the same. Clarke was just starting to think that movie night with Bellamy wasn't so weird after all when her phone buzzed from where it sat on the coffee table. Text message.

Clarke groaned and made a half-hearted attempt to reach for it without compromising her comfortable position. This proved impossible, so she gave up, ignoring Bellamy when he laughed at her laziness. But then the phone buzzed twice more in quick succession. "Booooooooo." Clarke grumbled. "Come on, Clarke. You really should see who it is, it might be important." Before she could stop him, Bellamy reached out with one of his long arms and grabbed the phone, glancing at the display.

Bellamy's smile faded instantly, his expression becoming perfectly neutral as he tossed it into her lap. She had three texts from Finn, the topmost message one reading, "Hey Princess. Nightcap?"

_Dammit._

Clarke could feel Bellamy's eyes on her as she unlocked her phone and read the other messages: "Meet me at Last Word", followed by "Please?"

Clarke tapped out a quick reply. "Can't. Grading papers." She tossed the phone back on the coffee table and turned back to the television, aware that Bellamy was still watching her.

"Persistent guy, that Finn. What's the story there?" Clarke's head snapped around to look at Bellamy, ready to tell him to mind his own business. But he had a conspiratorial and completely disarming smile on his face and Clarke found she didn't have the energy or inclination to be mad at him for prying. In fact, she found she couldn't help but smile a little herself.

"He's a friend. I've known him for a long time. Things got complicated between us last year when he and Raven were on a break. Wasn't worth the drama. Wasn't really worth anything, in the end."

"And yet he wants to get drinks."

"Like I said, we're still friends."

"Right." Bellamy was still looking at Clarke, his smile widening.

"What?" Clarke asked self-consciously.

"Nothing." Bellamy continued to grin. "I just like that you don't suffer fools, Clarke. I'm sure Finn's a nice guy. He's probably even a _good_ guy. But he's not the guy for you."

"Oh is that right? You're such an expert on me now?"

Bellamy looked at her with those intense eyes. "I think I'm getting there."

Clarke blushed furiously and looked down, suddenly very aware of how close their bodies were on the couch. She could feel the heat radiating off of his shoulder. His very large, very muscular shoulder.

Three loud beeps sounded from Bellamy's pocket. In a flash, Bellamy was on his feet, jerking Clarke up by her elbow and putting an arm around her waist.

"Bellamy, what-"

"Bedroom. Now."

For an insane second, Clarke thought Bellamy was making some sort of sudden and indecent proposal. But his face was set in hard lines, and when Clarke hesitated to move his arm tightened around her and he half carried, half shoved her out of the living room and down the hall to her room.

Bellamy threw her through the door and slammed it behind them.

"Clarke, get on the floor on the other side of bed." His voice was clipped. Clarke saw that Bellamy had grabbed his holster from the chair in the living room. He removed his gun and tossed aside the empty leather straps.

The sight of Bellamy's gun made Clarke's blood run cold. Was it the AOG? Were they hear? _Oh God oh God I need to call my mother what in the hell is going on surely it can't be smart to lock ourselves in here for fuck's sake what is happening_-

Fear knotted in Clarke's gut. But fear was useless. It turned quickly into angrer. "You will tell me what the _fuck_ is going on, Blake."

Bellamy closed the distance between them in two steps, grabbed her elbow again and pulled her with him down to the floor beside her bed. He was crouched down beside her, gun in one hand. With the other he pulled out his phone and checked the screen.

"Bellamy, goddamit tell me what's happening!"

"I'm not sure yet, Clarke. But look at me." He brought his face inches from hers and looked her directly in the eye. "Be calm. Be quiet. Trust me. Ok?" Clarke clenched her mouth shut and nodded, drawing strength from Bellamy's sure gaze.

His phone buzzed and he answered it immediately. "Talk to me."

Bellamy listened intently for a few seconds, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching as he absorbed whatever information he was receiving. "Ok. Did any of the neighbors see?" He was quiet for a few moments more. "Fine. Alright." He hung up and exhaled slowly. Clarke searched his eyes, waiting for answers.

"Everything is fine now, Clarke. Let's get you up."

Clarke allowed herself to be hoisted up to her feet. "What do you mean, "everything is fine now"? What happened? What did those beeps mean?" Clarke's heard her own voice as though it was far away. Adrenaline was still surging through her body and her hands were shaking stupidly at her sides. She clenched them into fists.

"Clarke, why don't you sit down on the bed." He tucked his firearm into the back waistband of his jeans.

"Fucking hell, Bellamy! What just happened?"

Bellamy put his hands on Clarke's shoulders and gently pushed her down onto the bed.

"It was a false alarm. The outside surveillance crew saw an unknown person approach the house. Those three beeps were a warning from my team. Three beeps is the signal for me to secure you. It's a good thing I was already over here. Otherwise I would have had to bust down your door."

Clarke's heart was still racing, the adrenaline ebbing away and leaving her slightly nauseous. She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking measured breaths. _Calm. Be cool and calm. Don't embarrass yourself. _

"Who was the man?"

"They think it was a homeless guy who wanted to go through your recycling. They had him down on the ground and ziptied before he could even make it onto the porch." Bellamy shook his head. "It was done quickly and quietly, Clarke. Probably in less than twenty seconds. Monty is confident none of your neighbors saw anything."

"What about the man?" Clarke asked furiously. "You can't just ziptie random strangers!"

"He was released, and he's fine."

"My god, you people! Who do you think you _are_?"

"Clarke, I don't think you understand how this works. We will do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. That's our job."

Clarke was speechless. She could only glare into Bellamy's face. His eyes softened and he knelt on the floor in front of her, reaching for her shaking hands. He held them both between his own.

"Clarke, I'm sorry if this scared you. You handled it beautifully. You're ok, I'm ok, and everything is fine."

"I'm not fucking _scared_, you jackass." Clarke spat at him. "I'm goddamn furious! This whole situation is fucking _ludicrous_! My own home has become some sort of fortress and people are being ziptied in my yard and I have a live-in goddamn bodyguard who thinks he's fucking prince Prince Charming for pulling out a gun and locking me in my own damn bedroom!" Clarke knew she was reaching a fever pitch of fear and fury. She clamped her mouth closed and squeezed her eyes shut. _Lock it up, Griffin._

Bellamy remained silent, but his thumbs began making soothing circles on the backs of her hands. It was a small gesture of comfort, but it was enough. Clarke felt all the fight leave her body at once. She slumped forward and rested her forehead on Bellamy's shoulder. He reached an arm around her and began to rub her back soothingly.

"You're tough, Princess. You and me, we can handle stuff like this, ok?"

Bellamy's mouth was close enough to her ear that she could feel his warm breath. His hand on her back moved in slow circles. Everything else fell away and her heart began to race again.

She pulled her head back and looked into Bellamy's eyes. They were so close now, close enough for Clarke to see the beginnings of a 5 o'clock shadow that was at odds with the boyish freckles dotting his nose. But it was his mouth that was distracting her now. It looked so full and warm and inviting. Bellamy lifted a hand to Clarke's face, watching her intently as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

Bellamy cleared his throat and broke eye contact. "I, uh, I'd say we've had enough excitement for tonight, wouldn't you? We should both probably get some sleep."

Clarke shook herself. "Right. Yes. Sleep would probably be a good idea."

Bellamy nodded and stood. "Would you like me to...I mean, I can stay here tonight, if you want me to. On the couch."

Clarke's heart swelled and she fought back grateful tears. "Yes. Please. That would be nice."


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Well, here it is, you guys. Adult sexy times. Enjoy, and please review!**

Clarke stared up at the ceiling. Sleep was eluding her.

She turned over and glanced at her bedside clock. 2:13AM. She'd been trying to fall asleep for three hours, but Clarke couldn't manage to turn off her brain. Her mind kept replaying the brief, chaotic scene from earlier. Bellamy's face when he pulled her up and clutched her to his side. The flat grey of the pistol in his hand. His eyes when he told her to trust him. The way his voice sounded both fierce and proud when he'd called her tough. And alright, yes, his stupid, beautiful mouth.

Clarke heard a far off roll of thunder. Even the weather was restless tonight. Clarke rolled over onto her back again and scrubbed one hand across her eyes. _Go. To. Sleep. Dammit._

Clarke couldn't help but think that she should be feeling more scared. Tonight's excitement had been a false alarm, but shouldn't it have rattled her more? Sure, she was fidgety, wired even. But once Clarke had installed Bellamy on her couch with one of her pillows and a blanket and retreated back to her room, Clarke hadn't given her safety a second thought. As certain as she was that the sun would rise in a few hours, that's how surely she knew that Bellamy would keep her safe. Clarke herself was amazed at how suddenly she'd put her total trust in the man, but then again something between them had shifted tonight. Facades had been dropped, pretense had been abandoned, and only one fact remained: Bellamy Blake would never let any harm come to her. Never.

Clarke kicked the covers off her legs, her oversized t-shirt bunching around her waist. This sort of physical agitation was usually cured by a good long jog, but of course that was out of the question. She'd just have to suffer through it.

A lazy flicker of lightning was followed by another rumble of thunder, closer this time. Clarke listened as the breeze outside picked up and the first tiny drops of rain began to tap against her bedroom windows. _Good. Rain is good. Rain puts me to sleep._

But five minutes later, when it really began to pour, Clarke was feeling more awake than ever. Fitful, even. She sighed and allowed mind to recognize what her body already knew. Bellamy Blake was shirtless and prone not 30 feet away from her door. And that fact had her rather hot and bothered.

* * *

Bellamy stared up at the ceiling. Clarke was safely tucked in, the night surveillance team was watching the house...he should have fallen asleep hours ago. Instead, he lay like some randy teenager, half hard at the thought of Clarke just a few feet away, sleeping in nothing but a giant tshirt.

He was only human, for Christ's sake. She'd given him a pillow that smelled...Jesus, it was criminal how good it smelled. And the blanket was nearly as potent. So here he was, surrounded by her scent, with nothing to think about but how beautifully angry she'd looked when she's called him a jackass, or how good it had felt when she'd rested against his shoulder. And then she'd looked at his mouth like she'd actually wanted him to…

_Come on, dude. Be professional. This is Clarke Griffin we're talking about. She's way out of your league. _

It was raining now, a lovely, mild spring storm that would normally have sent him straight to dreamland. Not tonight. Tonight all he could think about was how deep Clarke had gotten under his skin. How certain he was that he would withstand an ocean of pain before he let anything bad happen to her. She was more than an assignment. She was like his higher calling.

Bellamy groaned softly and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. _Higher calling? Have you lost your mind?!_

He heard a floorboard creak and realized someone was walking down the hall. He sat up as Clarke stepped through the doorway. It was dark, but Bellamy could see that she was barefoot, still wearing nothing but that damn tshirt. "Clarke? Is everything ok?"

Clarke remained silent, the only sound was the rain beating against the windows. A flicker of lightning briefly threw her body into relief and Bellamy was left nearly breathless at how beautiful she looked. He hair was tousled, her lips swollen. And, God forgive him, he could just make out her nipples straining against the cotton fabric of the shirt. He swallowed hard.

Finally, she spoke. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me either."

Clarke stepped towards him. "Bellamy, I…"

Slowly, she reached down and pressed a warm hand flat against his chest, over his heart. He wondered fleetingly it she could feel it racing.

"Thank you. For tonight. For staying."

Bellamy covered her hand with one of his own and drew a shaky breath. Suddenly he was on his feet, looking down into Clarke's wide, searching eyes. Her lips were parted and he found he just couldn't help himself. He bent and captured her mouth hungrily. Clarke responded immediately, surrendering herself to him and letting out a soft, throaty whimper of desire as her arms wound around his neck. It was all the encouragement Bellamy needed.

He reached around to lift Clarke by her shapely ass, making her gasp against his mouth in surprise. She hooked her legs around his hips and ran her hands into his hair, tugging _just so_ while she nipped at his mouth.

Instinct took over. Bellamy found the nearest wall and pressed her against it, his erection grinding into her hot core. He held her up with one arm while the other snaked beneath her shirt to stroke her perfect breasts. Clarke groaned and arched into his hands.

"Bedroom. Now." Clarke gasped. Bellamy carried her down the hall, never allowing his mouth to stop worshiping her.

He sat her on the bed and stood, panting. "Clarke, are you sure you-"

Clarke ignored him and pulled her shirt over her head. "Yes. God, I'm _so_ sure."

She sat before him in nothing but a pair of lacy panties, leaving Bellamy momentarily speechless. Luckily, Clarke had the presence of mind to keep things moving. She reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs and pushed them to the floor. Bellamy's erection sprang free and she grasped him in one hot hand. When she began to stroke him slowly, stars exploded behind his eyes.

He had to stop her, or this would all be over far too soon. He grabbed her teasing hand and bent to kiss and suck her fingers. "I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, you know that?" he whispered.

Clarke smiled and shook her head slowly.

"I've been laying in there, hard as a rock, thinking about all the ways I wanted to have you." Clarke drew a ragged breath as Bellamy knelt in front of her. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties and deftly ripped them apart, prompting Clarke to gasp and her eyes to darken with arousal.

Bellamy parted her legs and began to trail kisses along her inner thighs, making Clarke squirm with anticipation. When he could hold out no longer, he allowed his tongue to take a long, slow trip around her sex before he finally hit home and drew her clit into his mouth, sucking gently. Clarke arched off the bed and raked her hands through his hair.

"Oh, God, Bellamy, oh please."

He continued to tease her until she was panting and clutching at the sheets. Then he moved onto the bed, holding himself above her as her legs wrapped around his waist. He entered her with one firm thrust and Clarke hissed with pleasure. He held himself still for a moment, his jaw clenched, his forehead resting against hers. She was so wet, so warm, so tight. She was perfect. He kissed her deeply and then began to move.

He couldn't help but groan into her neck, "Jesus, Clarke, you feel so fucking good." Clarke moaned in response and he felt her tighten around him. He dropped his mouth to her breast, capturing her nipple between his lips. He sucked hard and then bit down lightly, causing Clarke to throw her head back and clutch at the headboard.

He began to move faster, thrusting deeper into her. He looked down into her face and found her wanton expression so erotic that he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. He hooked one of her legs over the crook of his arm, giving him deeper access. Clarke cried out his name and tightened further around him.

"Come for me, Princess." Bellamy growled.

His command was all it took. Clarke tumbled over the edge, spasming and fluttering around his cock, biting into his shoulder to stifle her cries. He thrust hard into her once, twice more before he found his own release and buried his head against her neck.

Wrapped in each other's arms, the rain beating a gentle tattoo against the windows...both Clarke and Bellamy were finally able to sleep.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey there! Long time no talk! I was/am feeling kind of frustrated with the current season (and I guess I was also feeling kind of smutty), so I decided to revisit this story. I apologize, but this chapter is basically just another adult sexytimes interlude. I promise the next one will be more plot driven!**

Bellamy Blake wasn't one to wake slowly. This morning was no different. One minute, he was asleep, the next, his eyes snapped open and then squinted against the early morning light streaming through the bedroom windows. In quick succession, his remaining senses sprang to life. He felt the warmth of Clarke's body nestled snugly against him, the smell of her hair on the pillow they shared, the soft sound of her even breathing. and..._ugh_, yep, the taste of his own morning breath.

Bellamy shifted his head back the tiniest amount so that he could look at Clarke's sleeping face. They lay facing each other, arms and legs intertwined. Clarke delicate nose just barely grazed his collarbone, and her pretty mouth, slightly parted, brushed against the hollow at the base of his throat. She was beautiful. _This is bad. This is very bad._

Immediately, Bellamy was furious at himself, at his weakness. Sleeping with an assignment? A complete and total breech of ethics. It compromised his efficiency and her safety. But as Bellamy watched Clarke sleep, he found he couldn't muster up much actual _regret _for last night. When she'd come to him, a part of him had been cracked open, laid bare. She was a perfect fit, like a piece of himself that he hadn't even known was missing. As he lay there, watching her sleep, a greater, more terrifying realization dawned: he was in love.

Two weeks and a few days. That's all it had taken. And though the feelings were new to Bellamy, he found he didn't doubt them at all. He was in love. With Clarke Griffin. _This is very very bad._

There was no going back for him, he knew that. He loved her, and he wasn't going to stop. But this...waking up in her bed, feeling the silky skin of her back under his hands...it couldn't happen again. No, the most important thing was to keep Clarke safe, and as wonderful as last night had been, he couldn't afford to be so reckless. Passion would just have to wait.

As if to test his resolve, Clarke began to stir.

* * *

Clarke woke in Bellamy's arms. She lay there, eyes closed, and focused on the feeling of him. His impossibly firm chest under her hands. The faint scratchiness of his stubbled chin against her forehead. The tickle of his leg hair against her own smooth calves.

The warmth of his groin between them.

She opened her eyes, looking up to search for his face. And there he was, all freckles and dark skin and tousled hair. Gorgeous. Perfect. Troubled.

"Morning," she murmured, keeping her face as neutral as possible. Clarke had a feeling he was already kicking himself for sleeping with her. She knew he'd feel guilty about it professionally. What she didn't know was whether or not he'd regret it on a more...personal level.

Bellamy regarded her seriously. "You know, I'm worried about that deviated septum of yours."

"Huh?" Clarke asked, confused.

"You snore, Griffin." Bellamy was grinning now.

"I absolutely do not!" Clarke sputtered and started to squirm away, but Bellamy's arms held her firmly. He hooked his hand under her knee and hitched her leg onto his hip. Clarke's stomach fluttered with arousal. Bellamy was serious again.

"No. Don't get up. Not yet. Stay here with me a little longer." Bellamy closed his eyes and pulled her tighter, but Clarke heard the note of sadness in his voice. And she knew that as soon as they left the bed, the spell would be broken. He'd go back to being her ice cold professional protector, keeping his emotional distance.

Clarke felt a wave of rejection wash over her, even as he held her close. She shouldn't have let her guard down. For God's sake, she'd practically _thrown_ herself at him last night. And yeah, he'd responded pretty enthusiastically, but wouldn't any red blooded man have done the same? In a few short hours, he'd probably resent her for...seducing him, if she could call it that.

Strong, bitter disappointment settled in. With a sinking heart, Clarke realized just how far beneath her armor Bellamy had gotten. Tears pricked her eyes as she breathed him in deeply, trying to memorize the smell of his neck. She knew wouldn't have another chance.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Bellamy asked, pulling his head back to search her face.

Clarke cleared her throat and blinked back the tears. "Nothing. I just…" Clarke trailed off but couldn't tear her eyes away from Bellamy's. The silence stretched on too long. Clarke's eyes wandered down to Bellamy's mouth. She became even more aware of his perfect, naked body.

Bellamy's hand began traveling slowly back and forth on the thigh thrown over his hip. Clarke felt herself grow instantly wet, and she felt him harden against her pelvis. Slowly, with some morning-after shyness, Clarke reached for him, her eyes holding his until they fluttered closed as she began to stroke him.

He was hot and hard in her hand. She found the feel of his cock impossibly erotic, like steel covered in velvet. She stroked him slowly, enjoying the soft noises of pleasure she was coaxing out of him. She pressed her open mouth against the base of his throat and sucked gently, making him moan slightly and flex his hips toward her.

Bellamy's hand moved along her thigh to her ready center. Without warning, he plunged two fingers into her firmly and began to thrust, making her gasp. His thumb soon joined, making slow, insistent circles around her clit.

"Jesus, Clarke," Bellamy murmured against her ear. "You're so wet. You're so wet for me."

His words sent fire straight to Clarke's belly. His hand was so sure, so divine. Tension was building low in her abdomen, and she knew a few more sweet nothings in her ear would send her over the top.

Suddenly, Bellamy rolled over onto his back, taking her with him roughly. She landed astride him, sitting tall and feeling powerfully sexy. She ran her nails across Bellamy's chest and ground her core against him. Bellamy reached up and stroked her aching nipples and Clarke groaned. She was nearly delirious with lust.

"I want to watch you ride me," Bellamy growled. Again, Clarke was shocked at the effect his words had on her. She reached down and guided him, inch by heated inch, into her pussy.

Clarke began to move, flexing around him as the tension in her stomach began its slow build again. She held her own breasts, rolling her nipples, and got lost in the sensation. Her head fell back and her eyes closed with pleasure.

"That's right, baby. Ride me just like that. Oh GOD, you feel amazing, Clarke."

Clarke looked down at Bellamy's face, his eyes lidded in pleasure. As she watched, he brought his thumb to his mouth, sucked it, then moved it to the place where their bodies were joined. Clarke leaned back and mewled as Bellamy began to circle her clit again. She wouldn't last much longer.

Clarke began thrusting harder and faster, her moans rising and the pressure building until she tumbled over the precipice. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw stars as her pussy convulsed around his perfect cock. Her hands grasped at his chest, no doubt leaving a few marks behind as she spasmed through the strongest orgasm of her life.

She must have collapsed onto Bellamy's chest, because when she could think again, he was holding her tightly against his body, still buried inside of her.

He murmured sweet little shushing noises into her ear as her heart rate slowed. The he rolled her over onto her back and looked into her eyes.

"I'm not finished with you yet, you know." Clarke's belly flip-flopped in anticipation and she gave Bellamy a languid, challenging smile.

"Do your worst, Blake."

Bellamy growled softly at that and began nipping his way from her ear to her breast. When he reached her nipple he drew it gently into his mouth and teased her with his tongue. And then he bit.

Clarke gasped and raked her hands through Bellamy's hair. He serviced both breasts eagerly and then moved south. He didn't tease her at all, or give her any warning, before dropped his mouth to her sex and gave it a long, firm lick. Clarke gasped again and writhed against him, her clit still ultra-sensitive from her first orgasm. It was almost too much to bear.

She didn't have time to think before he sat up on his knees and grabbed both of her legs. In one deft motion, he turned her over onto her stomach. Clarke looked over her shoulder and saw Bellamy admiring her ass. She watched as a slow smile crept across his face.

"Like what you see?"

"You could say that, yes."

Clarke squeaked when Bellamy lifted her hips so that she was on her knees, on full display. Slowly, he guided himself into her, hissing in pleasure when his hips finally meet her ass. Clarke nearly choked at how deep he was inside of her. Bellamy leaned forward and ran his hands along her back and down to her breasts. He placed tiny kisses along her spine.

"You're so tight."

She flexed against him and smiled when he groaned.

"I'm going to make you come again for me, Clarke." His words were like lighter fluid.

Bellamy began to thrust deeply, his hands tight on Clarke's hips. She'd never felt so _full_ before, and in this position he was hitting her G spot so intensely that it was almost too much. But his rhythm was insatiable, and Clarke soon began to feel the familiar tension building.

"Oh, God, Bellamy, yes. Right there, oh PLEASE don't stop."

Bellamy began to thrust faster and harder, his cock hitting all the right places. She was groaning again, unable to help herself. Bellamy wasn't exactly quiet either. _Good thing I don't have any other neighbors._

"Clarke, I want you to come with me. Touch yourself, baby. Touch yourself and come with me."

Clarke reached a hand to her clit and began rubbing herself, feeling sexy and naughty and gloriously close to release all at the same time.

"That's it, baby. Oh God, you're perfect, Clarke. Come for me."

And she did. Again. Hard. And judging by Bellamy's strangled cry, Clarke thought it was safe to say Bellamy did too. He thrust against her and then stilled, emptying himself deep inside. Clarke's whole body vibrated with pleasure as she spasmed again. She grasped at the sheets and bit into her pillow to muffle her keening cries...

_He's too amazing. I'll never leave this bed. _


End file.
